So I come home from work and find a note on the door:
There’s a cat in the house.
DON’T STEP ON HER!
Her name is MinnieMouser. (wat)
I fed her a little dry stuff at 9:30. Give her more if you like.
Food is in the pantry by your coffee. I set up the litterbox in the bathroom.
Now, “later” to my goddamn pea-brained hippie sister could mean anywhere from a couple hours to several years.
And she’s not returning my phone calls, of course….
As soon as I walk in the house I could hear her crying. I found her cowering under the kitchen table. She was scared of me at first but after she got a taste of my ham sammich she calmed down a little but I think she’s still undecided about making me her new best friend.
Although she’s totally stressed out she did let me pick her up and handle her. She’s a domestic shorthair tuxedo cat (!), between 1-2 years old.
She also just got fixed. Like maybe yesterday. Her stitches are still intact and she has the telltale green tattoo on her shaved belly.
Judging by the amount of food and the huge bag of litter it looks like she’s going to be here a while.
Who’s cat is this? Why is she here? And why won’t my idiot sister return my phone calls???
Ah well, I’m sure I’ll get the answers eventually…and I’ll post more pics when she’s feeling better. Stay tuned ghetto.